Midsummer Commemoration
by whatsamatta
Summary: -O- You Are Affectionately Invited To Attend This Year’s Midsummer Commemoration, Nightfall At The Manor Dress As Expected -O- *M for sex*
1. Midsummer's Eve

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own Hey Arnold. Alright, I think there will be a large number of you who do not like this. That's ok, I didn't write it for you anyway. I wrote it for me, and for those who would like it or want to be, I don't know, disturbed maybe. Read, Review, and Spread the word.**_

_~O~_

_You Are Affectionately Invited_

_To Attend This Year's_

_- Midsummer Commemoration -_

_Nightfall At The Manor_

_Dress As Expected_

_~O~_

Arnold looked at the invitation on Helga's desk in confusion. A party? Where? What was expected? What was the Manor? Just who the hell was throwing this shindig? And why in the hell was his girlfriend invited?

"Hey Football Head, whatcha lookin at?" Helga's voice entered his ear, and he turned to find her standing in all her naked glory, still slightly wet from the shower she just took. Arnold smiled, and held up the invitation.

"What's with the invite?" he tried to sound casual, but she caught the distrustful hint in his voice. With her own soft, although somewhat guarded smile, she took the exquisite stationary from his hand to place it back on her desk.

"It's just a party a friend of mine is hosting, Football Head." She tried to assuage while pulling on a pair of black panties and a white tank top. Arnold couldn't help but smile at how she loved wearing contrasting colors, and how even in this heat she hated to sleep naked. As she turned on the many fans scattered around their bedroom, Arnold took another look at the invitation.

"So, where's the Manor?" he asked nonchalantly, rereading the paper again and again, hoping for any answer his girlfriend would refuse.

"On the outskirts of the city, up on a hill." She replied just as casually while opening a window to help the air circulate. Arnold nodded, but before he could ask another question, Helga cut him off.

"Get to the point, Football Head." She rushed while sitting on the barely covered bed, watching him with a frowned mouth but amused eyes. Arnold sighed, before joining her.

"Can I go?" he pleaded, and Helga allowed a tired breath to escape her lips.

"I don't think you'd like it, Arnold." She admitted, turning off the nightstand lamp and purging the two into darkness. They were silent for several minutes, maybe fifteen, maybe twenty, before Arnold turned to look at her.

"Why wouldn't I like it?" he asked, only to find Helga giving him a blank expression before turning onto her side, effectively shutting the conversation down.

"Go to sleep, Arnold."

But he couldn't sleep. Tomorrow was Midsummer, and Helga was going to a party she wouldn't tell him about. Well, he'd just have to go to this party.

***

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I can't let you in unless you are dressed as expected, or with an invitation."

The man denying him entry did look sorry, as if he hated turning people away. Arnold nodded, but wasn't dissuaded just yet.

"Please, my girlfriend is in there, and she wouldn't tell me anything about this party. I just want to see her and know why." The man nodded to him, while simultaneously allowed a tall woman with red hair to enter the doors.

"Well, who's your girlfriend?" he asked, and Arnold saw a glimmer of hope.

"Helga Pataki." The man gaped at him for a moment, before grinning.

"Get out! Helga huh? Well, Helga is pretty damn popular around here, so I suppose I can let you in, but you can't enter looking like that. Here, follow me and we'll get you dressed as expected." Motioning Arnold to following him, the man entered the doors, locking them once Arnold was also inside, and led him to a large coatroom. The two costumes he offered the young man made Arnold momentarily rethink what he was doing, but he had already come so far. It was now a matter of pride, and while Arnold would really rather die then be caught wearing what was required, he just couldn't admit that Helga was right.

Taking the less risqué of the two, Arnold quickly changed, before being ushered into the main ball room by the man, and given a thumbs up for luck.

And luck was one thing he needed in abundance, besides maybe balls.

Well, not balls in _**this**_ dress.

***

It was a Tranny Party, a fucking Tranny Party. That being said, Arnold finally realized what the invitation meant when it said dress as expected. There were only two options: conservative drag or not-so-conservative drag. So there Arnold stood, wrapped up in black buckle dance pumps, panty hose, knee length white and black sun dress and a blonde wig; watching the interaction between the party guests in the ball room before him. Not recognizing a single face in the crowd, he slowly made his way about the room, looking at the men dressed as women, women dressed as men, and others who were clad in only corsets, panties and fuck-me pumps.

Laughter rang out, mixed with breathy moans, standard chatter, and soft music. As he looked around at the different people on the couches, he was amazed at what he found. Women on their backs, legs spread wide as men buried themselves with grunts and harsh thrusts. Men fucking other men, women fucking other women, and Arnold could only watch in sick amazement as he moved from couch to couch. Threesomes, orgies, marijuana and wine were copious, he noticed and would have continued to notice, but was stopped by a soft hand on his shoulder.

Turning, he found an older woman in gold crotch-less panties and a short red corset that stopped above her belly button and below her breasts, so her pert and hard nipples sat out proudly on display. Black garter belts connected to black panty hose that disappeared into black fuck-me pumps. To finish the look, she wore a dark purple overcoat robe piece trim with black and a wild bright green wig with vivid red lipstick. Those red lips parted with a smile, revealing white, perfectly aligned teeth and a pink tongue.

"Having a good time?" She asked in a voice that was too deep to be female, and too high to be male. Arnold was startled, but managed a slow smile.

"Uh, yeah, a very good time. I'm actually looking for my girlfriend, Helga Pataki. Do you know where she is?" he queried, and the woman's smile turned more sincere.

"Ah, you must be Arnold. How do you do? I'm Madam Red, the owner of the Manor and host of this little Party. I am glad though, that you've finally be able to attend one of my shindigs; Helga talks about you all the time." Madam Red gushed, taking Arnold by the hand and leading him towards a back door labeled 'Leisure' in elegant script that matched the invitation. The room hidden behind the door was a more calming atmosphere than what was outside, with soft jazz rock fusion flowing from the speakers and cigarette smoke wafting in the light from the overhead lamps. Beneath each light was either a poker table or a billiard table, and on the far back wall was a bar.

Arnold couldn't pick out Helga, but Madam Red seemed to find her almost immediately.

"Helga, Helga, you have a visitor." From one of the billiard tables a young man in an oversized black zuit suit straightened up. His neck length blonde hair was slicked back and he had a fedora neatly on his head. Turning around, Arnold noticed that his loose tie was white, a contrast of the black, and matched the ribbon running through the hat.

He hated to admit it, but that young man had such a sexual quality about him that even Arnold was attracted to him.

"Hey Football Head. What're you doing here?"

Arnold's head just about spun three hundred and sixty degrees when he heard the voice of his girlfriend, his Helga come out of that young man's mouth. And when he stepped into the light a bit more, Arnold realized that it _**was**_ Helga, and she _**was **_that completely gorgeous man.

"I wanted to find out why I wouldn't like this party. Why didn't you tell me it was a Tranny Party?" If anyone had been offended by his categorizing of the celebration, they didn't show it. Helga smiled as she walked over to him, pool cue still in hand.

"You wouldn't have followed me if I did." She smirked, and Arnold realized too late it was a trap. Before he could even begin to chew her out, Helga sensuously began to stroke his inner thigh under the dress with her cue, noticing the erection forming quickly.

"Now follow me; I'm always the only one who doesn't get to have fun at these parties because of my loyalty to you. So tonight, you are going to make it up to me." She ordered, and it took all his concentration to nod and follow her as she led him out of the Leisure Room and back into the main hall.

In his sexual haze, Arnold never knew how they ended up on one of the many couches, his dress up around his waist shamelessly as she both sucked him into heaven and fingered him into hell. But he certainly noticed. Just like he noticed when one long and agile finger managed to hit his prostate while her tongue ran and even dipped into his slit. Just like he noticed when she unbuttoned her masculine pants and pulled them down only enough to fit around him when she was good and ready. Just like he noticed she rode him resembling a man rutting into his submitter.

She fucked him with such elegant authority. It was amazing really. Everything she did was so controlled, and everything had a specific reaction warranted from him. Her clenching made him moan, her moans made him thrust harder, her aggression made him nearly die. She was in absolute control, and he loved it.

***

Arnold awoke the next morning in their bed, Helga asleep next to him. They were both naked, and he couldn't remember why. He tried to recall what happened last night, but with his attempts he forced the few small flashes of memory away from his mind; maybe forever. Beside him Helga stirred, and he leant over to kiss her shoulder.

There it was! Another memory flash – a white and black dress. An older woman. The smell of sex. Oh god, had he cheated on her? If he had, why didn't remember? Man, why was he so _**stupid**_?!

"Hey Football Head, last night was fun, huh?" Helga's sleep heavy voice cut through his frantic thoughts, and as he caught sight of her content smile, he had Déjà vu of a feeling. Overwhelming lust and love simultaneously, just like he felt now. At his look, Helga smiled and rubbed his cheek affectionately.

"Don't sweat it, Football Head, I didn't remember my first Madam Red party either." She soothed, and Arnold comprehended that Helga must have been with him last night, so he hadn't cheated. And if he didn't remember, well, that was ok, because she did, and apparently nothing bad happened.

Arnold never really regained his memory of that night, at least not until he picked up the mail, and once again spotted that graceful script. But this time, instead of one invitation, it was two. As he read and reread over the words, his memory nearly suffocated him.

_~O~_

_You Are Affectionately Invited_

_To Attend_

_- Madam Red's Birthday -_

_Nightfall At The Manor_

_Dress As Expected_

_~O~_

HA


	2. Mad Tea Party

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own Hey! Arnold, even after all these years. It's like I'm the other woman . . . I figured I'd write this for you while I'm still slaving away on **_The Apple Circus_**. Yes, I also acknowledge my slight obsession with **_Alice in Wonderland_**, which I've had nearly all my life. And hey, this makes one hell of a birthday present to me (GO MARCH FOURTH PISCIES!). And this one doesn't have sex, but who knows, maybe another chapter will. wink wink nudge nudge.  
**_

HA

_~O~_

_You Are Affectionately Invited_

_To Attend _

_- Madam Red's Birthday -_

_At The Manor_

_Dress As Expected_

_~O~_

He couldn't help but watch as Helga slowly and sensuously pulled the jeans up her creamy legs. When the waist moved over her rounded ass, he groaned with predictable need, the sound echoing around the otherwise quiet room. She was wearing his favorite panties.

Turning casually to look at him over her shoulder, she smirked with a mix of sadism and power, not completely uncommon among Pataki women. She moved some of her hair behind her ear while looking for her bra – the one that in no way matches the blue panties she was currently wearing – and gave her boyfriend more than an ample view of her perky young breasts. Dumbly reaching for the closest one, Arnold's groan became dragged out as she nimbly skirted around him.

In his effort to catch her and finish what she started this morning before the coffee pot went off this morning, his hand ended up smacking the desk. A few articles of paper flew up and out, landing a short ways away with some grace. Her smirk shifted tones as her boyfriend lost interest in her, focusing instead on the recognizable paper and the elegant script. Picking up the invitation, he turned to readdress Helga, only to find her rummaging the top draw of the dress for a shirt.

"Helga, is this another invitation?" he asked, fully remembering the few Madam Red parties he had been to after that first one on Midsummer's Eve. He hadn't been to thrilled once he was a bit more sober, and while he hadn't exactly _forbid_ his girlfriend from attending, he had certainly made it clear that he didn't like her going. Helga understood, and after the one celebrating some pagan harvest holiday, she hadn't brought it up again. He had thought she hadn't gone back either.

Guess he was wrong.

"Well duh. Of course it is. Now if you excuse me, I have to find a shirt so I can pick up my outfit – there is a party tomorrow I'm attending." She informed him curtly while trying to sound civil.

"Helga, I really don't want you going." She spun so abruptly, Arnold was afraid she was going to give herself whiplash. She had her orange shit happens Rubik's cube shirt posed halfway over her head, and a distrustful look on her face. Slowly she pulled the shirt down, and by the time her face appeared she was scowling.

"Let me guess, it's because you're still unsure about them." It wasn't a question.

And the look on his face said it all.

"So you don't want _me_ to attend this party because _you_ feel uncomfortable? Jesus Football Head, if you're uncomfortable with them, then don't go! I'm not forcing you to, anyway." She snapped and Arnold, who had sat down on the bed when Helga gave him that first look, shot to his feet in defense.

"I don't want you going because I don't want you getting hurt. Those parties aren't safe – you could end up assaulted, raped, murdered, the list goes on!" he shouted right back, and immediately regretted it. Helga was never one to accept his half-assed reasons, and to be honest the look of intense hostility raging across her face scared him.

"_Don't_ you dare, don't you _dare_ make this about my safety! I have been going to these parties since I was thirteen – this has absolutely _nothing_ to do with my safety. You just don't understand them, and you fear what you can neither understand nor control. Since you can't control them, you're trying to control me. But I won't have it! You can either come with me and let me dissuade your unease, or you can stay here while I'm out – but either way we're dropping this now." She finalized, and though he hated when she shut down the conversation like that, he also couldn't deny that he loved it when she got domineering nearly to the point of violence. Because if he couldn't be in control, it was probably better that she was.

"Well?" she asked, crossing her arms and tapping her foot aggressively. Returning his focus to her, Arnold smiled, trying to smooth away the enmity. Her rigid posture didn't slacken, but she did nod her head to show him she was listening.

"Alright. I'll go with you tomorrow, if you'll let me." she finally let go a smile, and nodded while grabbing her keys and slipping on a pair of shoes.

"Yes it's fine with me, you know you don't have to ask permission. Besides, Madam Red likes you. Now come on, we need to get you a costume." She smirked again, and Arnold felt a lump rise up to choke him as he pulled on his cons.

"Helga . . ." unsure of what he had wanted to say, he let it go with that, but Helga seemed to understand.

"It's a _themed_ party, Arnoldo."

***

Letting the sun warm his ridiculously-exposed skin, Arnold shook not with excitement or annoyance, but something of a mix between the two. Helga growled, which stilled his movements for only a fraction of a moment before he started shifting again.

"Dammit Arnold! I swear if you don't stop fidgeting I'm going to take this lipstick and color your teeth red. Now hold still and pucker up." She scolded, and Arnold almost laughed as she applied the deep red lip coloring on her boyfriend's lips, smiling with amusement. Leaning forward, she kissed him quickly to transfer some of the red, before stepping back to look him over.

"Man, you look great." She approved, giving him a once over.

He was dressed up in a lace up light blue dress – German bar-wrench fashion – with a white apron and a black and white petticoat. His hair was held back by a black headband with a small bow on one side; white knee-high stockings and black garter belt, and black fuck-me pumps. The dress only came to damn near the tops of his thighs, and with the petticoat plumping it out, he would have felt sexy if the breeze wasn't making him so cold it felt as if his balls were going to shrivel up and disappear.

Suppressing another set of shivers, he couldn't help but admire Helga's costume even more than his own, a surprising feeling of jealousy moving through his body. Her's resembled his in the fact that there as a white under shirt, off the shoulder sleeves and short skirt. But there the similarities ended. The black gartered under-wire bra top looked like a corset, the garter straps attached to the opaque thigh-high stockings which were topped with a black bow each. Her turquoise skirt matched her oversized tie that was almost like a choker necklace when there was no collar to complete it. The entire costume was finished with a black top hat covering her curled bonde hair, the black and white checker ribbon holding in a large slip of paper that read _10/6_; and a pair of black fuck-me-too pumps.

"Why am I in a dress again?" he finally vocalized after rubbing his lips together to better smooth out the lipstick. Watching with sinful interest, he focus on Helga as she put the red coloring on her lips before answering him.

"Because this is a theme party, and I happen to think you look _fabulous_ in drag." She informed before slipping the lipstick case into one of the folds of her skirt. The pair turned to the larger man standing in front of them guarding the entrance, and his girlfriend made the first move forward, only to be stopped by his hand on her wrist.

"Wait, Helga." She turned to look at him, and his blush made him just that sexier.

"Mhmmn?" Swallowing his courage, he pulled her back while stepping up.

"I don't know if I can do this. I just, just . . ." not able to finish his thought, Helga nodded with a sigh.

"Listen Football Head, I know what you're thinking. You're afraid that once we step through those doors we'll be swept up in that debauchery that happened last time, just like that first party you followed me to. And I have no doubt that you will, at some point during the course of this party, feel the cruel hand of jealousy rip at your soul. Keep in mind that I have always been faithful to you, every time I attend. I gave my virginity to you, and my love is yours completely.

"But remember that once you step through these doors, you cease being Arnold Moser. You become Alice, and Alice has no reason to be jealous of the Mad Hatter." She smirked, running a smooth hand along the rim of her hat, but sighed again at the look of disbelief on her boyfriend's face.

"Look, Arnold. I know you feel uncomfortable about this, and I think that you will remain uncomfortable until you understand something about this world. Madam Red and her realm operate differently: there's no jealousy and no possessiveness. You can know one another intimately, and love one another with no feelings of betrayal, and that is for one simple concept that they get but no one else seems to be able to figure out. Love is infinite, you can always make more."

She took his hand and laced the fingers, giving him a reassuring squeeze even as her eyes conveyed vulnerability.

"Also remember that this is part of my world too, which makes me one of them." For one of the few times in his entire life, Arnold was amazed to see something akin to fear in her eyes. Fear of rejection.

Squeezing her hand in reply, he smiled his most convincing smile and nodded.

"Alright, let's go then." Flashing a grin that was a bright as his Grandpa's Christmas trees, Helga nodded curtly before leading him up the steps and through the doors, the guard bowing his head in respectful recognition.

Walking through the hallway was like going down the rabbit hole. It was completely dark, save for the sunlight entering in through a medium-sized hole in the large oak door at the far end. A crooked grandfather clock began chiming largely the moment the pair passed, and a mixture of both idle chatter and clinking chinaware floated about on a phantom breeze. Signs along the wall pointed in odd directions, warning them to go 'this way', 'that way', even 'up' and 'down' – with 'up' aimed down and 'down' pointed up. As the two finally reached the end of the small journey, Helga released Arnold's hand for a moment to readjust her hat for the final time. With that, she slowly pushed down on the handle and swung the door open.

Sunlight flooded the hallway, and for a moment the young man was blinded. When his eyes finally returned to him, the sight they found hit him almost as hard as some of his epiphanies. Of the handful of times he'd been to the Manor, never once had Arnold been outside in the gardens.

The grass was a deep, rich, and healthy green; there were white and red rose bushes, and a hedge maze a short ways away from the Manor. Tables had been set up with various sizes and styles of tea kettles and cups, jam jars, and cookies in the shapes of hearts, spades, diamonds, clubs and clocks that said 'eat me'. There were no chairs around the tables, but there were some scattered around hookahs, although not a single chair matched another.

A large chess board was painted onto the grass a short distance from the maze, and it looked as though a chess game was about to start, with some of the guests as the pieces. There was a woman seated in front of the improvised board, the deep red of her high back chair ending nearly four heads above her crown.

Her costume mirrored their own, along with every other guest enjoying themselves in the creative and awe-inspiring garden: a sexy and somewhat sadistic _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_. Each person was dressed in a provocative version of the book, be it the pack of cards, the white rabbit, the march hare, and most importantly the Queens Red, White, and Hearts. Madam Red, Arnold noted, must have been the Queen of Hearts, with her natural red hair allowed free, and a dress that was a cross between gown and miniskirt.

She uncrossed her knee-high black stiletto-clad legs and waved the pair over, even as a woman dressed in a revealing slip fashioned after the Ace of Spades placed a small table before her. As they joined her, she pulled out a pack of red and rider backed Bicycle playing cards, shuffling the deck and smiling. Helga sat beside her in a smaller chair, taking off her hat to let the sun warm her blonde locks.

"Happy Birthday Your Majesty." She played, using the hat to her advantage as she bowed in exaggeration. Madam Red simply laughed and flicked the Joker cards at her young friend, who caught them in her hat before placing the prop back on her head.

"Why thank you my good Mad Hatter. And Arnold! Excellent to see you again; it has been so long I was afraid you weren't coming back to visit us." A sidelong glance at Helga told him he needed to behave or else.

"Well, you know how it is, Your Majesty – so much to do and so little time. And Happy Birthday to you." he almost bowed, but remembering in was Alice today, decided instead to curtsy. Madam Red laughed, shuffling the deck absentmindedly.

"It's true, this time it was Alice, and not the Mad Hatter, who killed Time. Luckily I was able to pull a few strings which allowed him to attend." Helga insisted, before eying a tea cup that magically floated by – on the hand of a guest that is. Running her hand along the rim of her hat smoothly one more time, she was up and gone in a flash, only to reappear moments later at the tea table.

Madam Red only laughed again, before motioning for Arnold to take the vacated seat. He did, and was immediately transfixed by the simple magic tricks his host began performing as she watched the chess game.

"Helga was just trying to not hurt my feelings. I know you've been avoiding us, Arnold, and I know why. I'm sorry you've been feeling awkward around us, myself in particular – but you see, not everything about us is sexual. Look around you now, do you see any orgies? Ritualistic sex and murder? The most risqué we get is the costumes."

Not knowing what to say to that, Arnold remained silent, finally pulling his gaze from the Madam's fast-working hands to the chess game she was intently watching. Helga had joined them as a White Knight, and was enjoying the little broomstick horse and fake sword she had been given. He vaguely realized she was right, this is as much her world as the one with Phoebe and Hillwood was. But with the light breeze that played with the hem of his skirt blew that thought away, it brought another more sudden one to his mind.

"Why is everyone either in drag or provocative clothing?" he asked, turning to Madam Red and watching as she pulled out all four Aces from the deck without even paying attention.

"You mean besides the fact that it's fun?" she asked lightly, and his look made her laugh, "Well, some of the guests were born hermaphroditic or intersexed, like myself; others were never comfortable in their own skin – transsexuals mostly – and others still are either completely comfortable with their sexuality or have virtually no inhibitions. Sometimes both, Helga is the prime example of that." She laughed again while watching the match, while Arnold turned his gaze sharply towards Helga.

"And as to why I host these little parties, well, for most of us this is the only place where we can feel completely loved and accepted. I know you must think us odd and even unsafe and healthy because of the things we do, but we _have_ given you many opportunities to learn more about us. Every invitation was more than just a pleasant welcoming to a party, it was an invitation into our world. Helga always spoke highly of you, but kept telling us over and over how she felt your worldliness had made you closed minded. We wanted to change that." Finally concluding, she placed the cards on her table then stood up with the intent to pour herself some tea and mingle with other guests. Before she left him, however, she paused while fiddling with something in her hand.

"All we really ask of you, Arnold, is to be open to our way of life, and not judge us, as we will be the last people on earth to judge you. But if you do in fact become our judge, jury, and executioner, keep in mind that it will mean deep down you are only one thing." With an elegant flick of her slender wrist, she shot the item at him, then swiftly disappeared. Confused, he looked at what had landed before him, and was more than surprised.

A Joker card.

Shaking his head with a small smile, he came to the conclusion that he should come to more of these parties, especially when Helga pulled him onto the chess board so that he could be the White Queen while the original went to have some tea. Surprisingly, he had fun, and he wasn't even seduced by the lust of nightfall parties at the Manor. Instead, he was lured in by the sun, the laughter, and maybe the tea and costumes.

Okay definitely the tea and costumes.

_~O~_

_You Are Affectionately Invited_

_To Attend This Year's_

_- All Hallows Eve Ball -_

_Nightfall At The Manor_

_Dress As Expected_

_~O~_

HA


	3. All Hallows Eve

_**Disclaimer: Hey! Arnold? Mine? Yeah, in another life, maybe. I present my much anticipated and greatly delayed birthday present to myself. At least I made it for Halloween, right? Enjoy my darlings. **_

HA

_~O~_

_You Are Affectionately Invited_

_To Attend This Year's_

_- All Hallows Eve Ball -_

_Nightfall At The Manor_

_Dress As Expected_

_~O~_

The small kitchen in the apartment was full of excited chatter as the group of friends lounged about, waiting for their bossy blonde to hurry up. The small iPod speaker dock rested passively on the counter, angrily blaring the next song on the creator's Halloween Playlist – something by cKy that had a catchy beat and easy to sing-a-long with lyrics. Bottles and containers of makeup surrounded the sink and littered every open surface, while brushes and sponges cluttered hands, pockets, and hair-ties.

And Helga stood in the middle of it all, creating and painting and transforming her good friends from the miscreant youth that they were know as, into flesh-eating, city-desecrating, inarticulate zombies.

Her current victim was none other than her boyfriend, his hands twitching perceptively as she coated his face in Elmer's glue. Budget cuts this year had forced them to choose between creating high end zombies in Kauai, or creating b-grade zombies in Hillwood. They, of course, choice friends over quality, and so Helga Geraldine Pataki had once again been reduced to throwing together undead mischief makers like they were high schoolers. As it stands, she was working as fast as she could with her trusty Elmer's at her side, but the whines and groans were driving her nuts.

"Would you guys shut it already? Criminy, Arnoldo here is the last one, and then we can set you loose on the poor City. Just have patience for cryin out loud."

The glue had dried, and she smiled to herself at the thought of him having trouble speaking as she ran a fresh coat of white face paint over the hardened substance. Doing her best to give him an even layer, she let her mind wander back to the costume hanging in Lauren's closet – it had to be Lauren's closet because it was Lauren and Jude's apartment that they had taken over. Most of the gang wasting time in the kitchen had no idea that she wouldn't be joining them on this Midnight Raid, a thought that made her disappointed, but she was looking forward to the party tonight. And she was most certainly looking forward to dressing up.

Her decorating fingers became slower, more melancholy as her mind danced around those thoughts. Secretly, she had always wanted the chance to don elegant dresses, to glamorize her otherwise Plain Jane features. To go to the ballet or the opera or the theatre, see the shows and go to a swank and fancy restaurant afterwards, to show off or be shown off. There was a burning hope deep within her heart that Arnold would be the one to take her out, to see the shows and wear her proudly on his arm.

But he hadn't, not yet anyway; and the burning hope in her was slowly dying down from full flames to a pulsing ember. It was much easier to pull on a pair of jeans and a casual t-shirt over curve-enhancing dresses and skirts any day. And she could do that on her own, whether surrounded by people she knew or not.

She simply didn't have this kind of courage.

And so her thoughts roamed over the dress, secret and safe in the back of her friend's closet. The pair had hidden it behind the blowup doll while the others were out getting Walking Man Pizza and China Gorge Chinese – they had never been able to agree on anything, much less food – and she had let her fingers brush the fabric quickly before removing it from the light of the room. Yet even as it was away from sight, it was certainly still present in her mind.

Beneath her capable hands, Arnold fidgeted. With a shake of her head, Helga smiled, painting in the final bloody and gaping wound on her lover's cheek. He did his best to smile at her, with his tight glue covered skin and fear of ruining her rushed yet masterful work – something she appreciated to a point.

"So, who's going to do you Helga?" he asked, pointedly ignoring the coughs of _you_ and _Ar-Nuld_ that erupted from behind his chair. She smirked while blowing gently on his face in order to help him dry faster. Her crisp, minty spearmint breath washed over him, and he wanted to kiss her, to taste the flavor of the gum she had tucked away by her back molars.

"Actually, Football Head, I won't be going with you guys tonight."

There were obvious groans of disappointment, but none of it matched the crestfallen look in his eyes.

"Why not Helga?"

She sighed, decisively collecting her soiled brushes and moving towards the sink in order to wash them out. She had only managed to set them on an empty pizza box before a hand clasped her shoulder, spinning her in order to show the undead eyes of a lover. Admittedly it was hard to say no to him when he flashed those hypnotizing green orbs her way – a fact he had learned and come to play on more than one occasion. But Helga Pataki would not be beaten tonight; she hadn't seen this particular group of people in nearly five months, and this party was long overdue for her.

Boyfriend be damned.

"I actually have a party I'm going to." Even as the groans erupted all around them, Arnold ignored it all in favor of watching her eyes. Her own icicle blue eyes flashed with a dark desire he had seen many times before, and felt something akin to jealousy grip fiercely at his stomach. She was leaving her own family of zombies in favor of that group of hyper-sexed partiers?

"What about us Helga?" Stinky asked, the gray pallor of his new skin reflecting the lights of the ceiling and casting odd shadows below his eyes. To a face like that, Helga had a hard time saying no. Praise be given to the deity of the week that she had years of practice.

"Sorry Stretch, but you're on your own. Now I want you guys to go out there and have fun scaring them senseless. Maybe stop by Green's Meats and cause a scene." A few of them laughed as Helga grew a self-gratified smirk as she shooed them out the door, playfully kissing Arnold's head of yellow hair before shutting the door in his face.

Startled as she was by the sudden sounds of Ace of Base cutting off the Halloween medley and slithering through the halls of the apartment, Helga turned and was pleasantly surprised to find Lauren standing in the kitchen. Her arms crossed, foot tapping and body swaying to the sounds they grew up on but lost, her blue-haired friend smirked almost fiendishly as she held out her hands.

"Come my darling, let us dress for the ball!"

Laughing, Helga took her hand and the pair spun themselves elegantly into the main bedroom in a waltz.

_**~O~**_

The wind was chilly, not uncommon for the time of year, and certainly expected with the time of night. A shiver ran down the spines of the good-sized group heaving their way up the steep incline of the drive – forced from the coolness of the evening air. The boys who made up the cluster walked quietly, save for the breath which strained from their mouths in pants of wispy white fog.

"Hey fellers, I got a question." Stinky suddenly voiced, stepping off onto the shoulder as another set of headlights made to pass them. It was a Rolls Royce, 1930s.

"What's that?" Was Arnold's response, and though no one stopped walking, they did turn to acknowledge their friend.

"If Helga told us to be flesh-eating monsters from beyond the grave, why are we hikin' up to that there mansion? It sure does look like they're havin' a party, and I don' think we're invited."

Everyone stopped as another car passed. Duisenberg, 1933. All eyes turned to Arnold, the one who had suggested that rather than attacking the places they had every year since the tradition started, they should make an appearance at the Mansion. None had been there, and so had readily agreed that it was a good idea. But that was before they began the trek up the incline, in the chill, and the dark, and what felt like ten pounds of glue, paint, makeup and aesthetics weighing them down. Now they were just annoyed and desiring some of Helga's special Wassail Cider.

Seeing the look of apprehension on his friend's rotten face, Sid offered to answer for their elected leader.

"Oh come on guys, I'll bet that it's a rich man's Halloween party up there. Can't you just see the looks on their faces when we zombies gatecrash?" his outburst was enough to inspire new enthusiasm within, and the boys moved faster up the side of the road in silence.

No one seems to question when Arnold walked right up to the door and nodded to the footman, careful not to disturb the thin line of salt spread across the threshold. In fact, it wasn't until they had stepped through the entrance hall and along the corridors that anyone said anything.

"Hey fellers."

It was Stinky's voice as another set of doormen ushered them through a set of large, commanding doors and into a glorious masquerade.

"Where's Curly?"

That was a good question. Curly had never missed a Zombie mob, not after he finally succeeded in freeing all the animals from the zoo.

_**~O~**_

The room was a whirl of color, elegance and grace. Long dresses and skirts ruffled with each turn, an accompaniment to the band that played pieces such as the Largos and Sonatas. Iggy, Lucy, Torvald and Phoebe sat in period clothes and uniformity on a stage, one leg extended and one bent beneath the chair. The girls played their violins, while the gentlemen played a lute and older guitar respectively. Behind them were Robert and Dwayne at the piano and the drums.

The guests spun in a synchronized waltz about the floor, and the zombies at the door stood mesmerized. Suddenly the band stopped, and as one all the dancers paused in order face a grand staircase. Descending it were two figures, one in a dress of deep purple, the other a hypnotizing olive green. For once, the features on the face of the sarcastic blonde melted into honest shock as her blue eyes landed on the pack of flesh eaters at the door.

At her hesitation, her companion in purple stopped as well, and Arnold immediately recognized her as Madam Red even though her signature bright red hair was hidden beneath a wig of white. Orbs finding them at her door, her scarlet lips spread into a smile as she invited the group in with a wave of her hand before beckoning Helga to continue.

It was with her invitation that the rest of the guests suddenly took notice of the undead, and they found themselves swarmed by colorful people in colorful masks. Women dressed as men, men dressed as women, and the occasion attendant dressed as their actual sex approached. Soon they were all separated – though they didn't bother to realize it. There was no threat here, especially not after Arnold and Gerald stumbled upon Curly.

He waltz past them in a suit of stylish blue, spinning a lovely raven-haired beauty in a gown so red and satin it was naughty. He would kiss her hand every once and a while, but it was when he murmured a smooth "_Cara mia_" against the skin of her neck, and she responded with a breathy "_Mon sauvage_" that the pair realized that it was _**Rhonda Wellington Lloyd**_ he danced with. Curly spun her again and she laughed before the couple was gone from sight in a flurry of fabric.

"Arnold, Gerald, what in the world are you boys doing here?"

Helga had finally made it to them through the sea of well-wishers, and Arnold was able to take in the full sight of her. Why didn't she wear gowns and dresses more often? The black bodice that squeezed her torso and pushed up her breasts was embroidered with gold thread, but it was the olive-green fabric which made up the skirt that had her looking absolutely magnificent. The wig on her head was a brighter blonde than her natural hair, but it brought out her icy orbs all the more as she spun her ivory face mask by its stem between her fingers.

Everything else faded away but him, her, and the music that flowed around them.

"Dance with me?" he asked with a bow, and she smiled genuinely with a nod. Arnold took her free hand in his, and his other went around her waist as she placed her masked hand on his shoulder. They spun much like they had that day the year before, in the barn with the old dancers. But this was different. It was new. It was sensual and magical and brought an altogether delicious feeling within him. He liked it.

"Tell me what you feel?" she whispered serenely. A laugh filled him as they spun again, separating from their friends who were otherwise engaged in activities similar to their own.

"My frozen pulse quickens." His own whisper was heated, and she laughed far louder than she would have liked. No one around them seemed to notice.

"And my black plot thickens."

Unexpectedly she spun out of his arms, and in that same moment all the dancers disengaged from their partners and twirled about in a mad storm of fabric and laughter as each sought out a new cohort. The musicians played wild half cords that sounded melancholy and magical. In the chaos that followed, Arnold lost Helga; he just stood there in the middle of the dance floor as bodies spun around him. Madam Red returned to the stairs to address her guests, and even through the distance Arnold could see her face flush with excitement.

"Now my darlings, the witching hour is upon us! Guard your souls, this is the time wickedness reigns!"

It was then that Arnold found Helga. She, too, had returned to the stairs, but in that short amount of time she had lost the wig. Her own natural short blonde hair was a wild as the wickedness Madam Red spoke of, and though she still wore the bodice her skirt was gone. Her magnificent vagina was covered, but Arnold could trace the lovely lines of her bare legs from her uncovered feet clear up to what was one f his favorite pieces of her anatomy. She cackled maniacally, arms spread out wide before her as if she were encompassing the whole world.

"Now the hungry lion roars, and the wolf behowls the moon; whilst the heavy plowman snores – all with weary tasks fordone. Now the wasted brands do glow while the _screech_ **owl** _**screeching**_ loud **puts** the wretch that lies in woe in remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night that the graves all gaping wide, everyone lets forth his sprite in the church-way paths to glide. And we faeries that do run by the triple Hecate's team, from the presence of the sun following darkness, like a dream, now are frolic. Not a mouse shall disturb _this_ **hallowed** house: I am sent with broom before to sweep the dust behind the door. Cold-hearted orb that rules the night, removes the colors from our sight. Red is grey and yellow white, but we decide which is right, and which is an illusion!" she shouted bravely, her tone commanding.

With her orders given, all the doors leading further into the mansion burst open and a flood of Goblins, Sprites, Faeries, Hobgoblins, and the like burst forth. They laughed like any natural and wicked agent of Helga would – a sinful cackle masking a mischievous agenda. The instruments moved quickly, riling up the other guests into a frenzy of laughter and chaos as everyone in the ballroom moved as one force towards the doors leading out into the gardens.

Helga ran with them, and so Arnold followed, through the mob and into the wild. She watched him, tempting him, leading him with an air that was decidedly special to All Hallows Eve. He didn't know where his fellow zombies were. He didn't care. The only thing he could think of was Helga, and catching her. What he would do after that, he wasn't certain of yet.

Though it was most likely be in the same vein of what was happening all around him.

As the guests were caught by the Goblins, they were quickly seduced and loved on the lawn, their movements illuminated by the moonlight. No one noticed the chill on the wind, nor the clouds moving in to swallow the moon – consumed as they were by the primal pleasure coursing through the air. Arnold had only a brief moment of moon lit clarity in which he could see Helga, standing still and waiting for him, before the rain fell in heavy drops, washing away the makeup and costuming on the bodies below.

There were no longer wicked agents of the Other World and the finely dressed party goers. The rain had begun to wash them all clean, until they were only man, woman, human. But the magic still flowed, even stronger now that it had a pure slate; moving like a current around and through the creatures in the gardens.

He struck like a rattler snake, aiming for her waist and tackling her to the ground. Had she had breath, Helga would have laughed at the absolute absurdity of it all; of him, of her, of the fantasies they indulged every time they attended Madam Red's parties. But as it was, Arnold was busy placing hot, demanding lips along her neck, then her arms, then her legs, then everywhere else as he ripped her costume off – she had no breath left.

He nearly growled as she did her best to unbutton his jeans as he tore his shirt over his head, forgetting about the running makeup that would without a doubt ruin the fabric. Her hands were slick with rain water and she couldn't get a good grip on the metal buttons. Arnold settled for doing his best to shimmy them down his hips before growling again and flipping her –viciously and violently – onto her hands and knees.

He forced his way in harshly, invading her body with a delicious sort of pain that had her throwing her head back in pleasure as her fingers gripped at the wet grass. One hand he used to pull her hips back onto his throbbing erection, the other grabbed at her hair, jerking her head back so he could kiss and bite along the column of her neck. In this way he was truly like a zombie, feasting on her flesh with an insatiable hunger with either no notice or complete disregard of their surroundings. Helga decided, as her lover and dominator pounded harder and faster into her submissive body, that she was enjoy every second of this side she rarely got to see.

Arnold, meanwhile, had no idea how he came to rutting the woman beneath him so violently, let alone why. One second he was marveling at her beauty as the danced, then next the only thing he could he could think was the sound of her screaming in complete obedience. He had never seen her, even during intimacy, give up complete control. He suddenly wanted to see that more than anything, wanted to be the one controlling _her_ for once. Which was why he found himself chasing after this spirit, this changeling, this Helga that teased and tormented him with no mercy. Why he was so relieved when he caught her that all he could do was force her into the ultimate position of surrender, and fuck her. Truly, deeply, like no one ever had or ever will again, for as long as she lives.

Fuck. Her.

With no warning the creature below him threw her head back as far as it could possibly go and howled to the moon hidden behind the clouds. The rain fell harder still as she collapsed onto her elbows as he plunged into her harder than he ever had, pumping until his own orgasm shot through him like electricity. He fell on top of her, taking her hand softly as she rhythmically clenched and released the wet earth underneath them – the same rhythm he had taken with her body.

He was about to apologize when he heard her laugh. Then she turned to face him, and smiled. In that one smile he felt ten, twenty, one hundred, one thousand, a million, infinitely more powerful than he had when in complete control. And love. He felt more love than he could even understand.

And as they lay in the rain in the gardens, they could feel the magic of All Hallows Eve spreading around them like a fog, happiness seeping into their bones, to their very souls.

"_If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended, that you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream . . ._"

_**~O~**_

The following Monday found Arnold and Helga packing up the last of their belongings in Jude and Lauren's apartment. No one spoke of what happened that Saturday night, except for the ever effervescent Curly, Lauren and Jude whose time was similar to the pair of blondes. Gerald would say nothing for Phoebe's sake, and Phoebe would say nothing save for to Lauren and Helga. Rhonda -brash as she is - her pride would never allow her to speak the things out loud. Sid, Stinky, Harold, Park, Lorenzo, and Eugene wouldn't say anything for fear that the spell of the night bewitched them into fucking something other than female.

But they did all make a pact to meet up again next Halloween.

This time they would be invited.

Helga smothered another snort as she let the thought of Arnold being controlling wash over her. It was erotic, arousing some of the strongest sexual desire she ever felt. But it was also special, something she only wanted everyone once and a while – like dark chocolate.

"Helga." Turning from their suitcase, Helga looked at Arnold, the smirk on his lips, and then to the paper he held out for her to see. Her own smirk said it all.

_~O~_

_Your Are Affectionately Invited_

_To Attend This Year's_

_- Welcoming Of The New Year -_

_Nightfall At The Manor_

_Dress As Expected_

_~O~_


End file.
